


Order Up: One SickFic

by wordscorrupt



Series: Iron Dad Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:50:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordscorrupt/pseuds/wordscorrupt
Summary: Peter finds himself having to defend against an unlikely intruder while sick.





	Order Up: One SickFic

When first Peter woke up that Saturday morning, it was with a harsh, raspy cough that had him almost toppling off his bed. He moans and sinks back into his bed a moment later, rubbing a hand across his sore chest. He tries to curl back underneath his covers but another cough that summons more than just mucus has him stumbling out of bed and practically crawling in his haste to get to the bathroom, barely making it in time to deposit the remains of his meager meal from last night into the toilet. 

He was hunched over the toilet for a few minutes, spitting up a mix of yellow, thick mucus and bile until he fell back onto the floor in a heap. 

Aunt May must have been at work. Probably agreed to work a morning shift after her overnight one when one of the other nurses called in. Otherwise, she would have been banging on the door at the moment, demanding to know what was going on. Peter tried to imagine her soft, cool hands caressing his cheeks or running gently through his hair. She’d wipe his face clean with a warm washcloth before helping him back into bed with no less than two dozen kisses to his cheeks and forehead. 

A whimper escaped through his lips and he tried to shove it down. He was fifteen years old. Practically an adult. He couldn’t go running to his aunt because of a measly cold. 

“Just suck it up, Peter, geez.” 

That was easier said than done. He tried to sit back up and nausea hit him with full force. He clasped a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to throw up again as he slumped against the wall. A few minutes later he tried pulling himself back up by holding onto the counter and only managed to get one wobbly leg underneath him before he collapsed back down. The excursion had beads of sweat rolling down his body and coupled with his fever, his pajamas were now practically soaked. 

He felt gross. Weak and gross. Anybody that knew he was Spider-Man would be disgusted at seeing him like this. He might as well be a fraud. Worthl-

Bang!

He jumped at the abrupt sound. Bleary eyes blinked up at the doorway. 

“A’nt May?” He called out weakly. 

Heavy, rapid footsteps approached and he didn’t recognize those as his Aunt’s. He shivered, either from his fever or the fear now coursing through his veins. Or a mixture of both. 

He groaned, reaching over to grab some kind of weapon. He couldn't fight to his full capability but he wasn’t going down without one.   
The footsteps became louder, closer and Peter could feel the bile rising back up his throat. 

It was now or never. 

In an instant, the door to the bathroom flew open and Peter screamed, holding his makeshift weapon up high above his head before aiming it towards the intruder. 

He barely registered the toilet brush flying towards his mentor and smacking him square in the face before passing out. 

The second time Peter woke up that Saturday morning, it was in a quite similar fashion to the first time around. He lurched up from bed as his body tried to hack up a lung or two. But rather than falling back into an empty bed, a pair of arms circled around his body and a moment later he was resting against something warm and soft. 

“Hey, bud, it’s okay. I got you.” The voice whispered into his ear and despite the fog clouding his mind, Peter could instantly recognize the voice. 

“M’s’er S’ark?” 

“Well, now, you recognize me.”

“Hmm?”

“Nevermind, kiddo,” Tony replied before he was offering a cup of water to him. However, his movements were evidently too sluggish and slow, leading the man to bring the cup up to his lips instead. He sipped gingerly at the water, the liquid soothing his throat. 

“Where?” Peter asked, once Tony put the cup down. The fog was starting to wither away and he started taking in his surroundings. Because no matter how sick he was, he could at least notice that he wasn’t in his room anymore. 

“The compound. Medbay more specifically. They got you clad in their one of a kind attire as well.” Tony patted at his chest and Peter peered down, sighing when he saw the spider cartoons sprinkled across his hospital gown. 

“You had this specially ordered, didn’t you?” Peter murmured. 

“Like you even had to ask. Perfect timing on my part. Didn’t know you would be coming down with the plague so soon.”

Peter huffed, trying to slide back down but Tony’s arms were keeping him up. 

“No, not so soon, kiddo. Bruce is coming down to check on you.” 

“Tired,” Peter whined. Tony’s calloused hand smoothed his hair back, trying to soothe him. 

“You can sleep once he’s done checking you over and replacing your IV fluids.” The promise of medications overcomes the daunting idea of being poked and prodded. 

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, finally relenting before sagging into Tony’s arms. He nuzzles into the man’s shirt, not even thinking about the fact he’s wiping his snot across the man’s clothing. 

If Tony had noticed, it wasn’t like he said anything about it.

His body still feels like it was ran over by a couple dozen semi trucks while his throat burns raw and his lungs wheeze with every breath but whatever medicine Bruce was giving him had at least managed to quash his nausea. 

Bruce appears a moment later, sprinting through the double doors, his white lab coat swinging behind him. 

There’s no need for introductions or pleasantries. Peter’s been in this situation way too many times. Albeit usually with him laying in the medbay bed with stab wound or two and his mentor pacing back and forth listing out the different ways he was going to kill him. 

Bruce offers him a reassuring smile though before pulling out his stethoscope and getting down to business. 

Tony, unsurprisingly, does not let go of him throughout his check up. Even after Bruce is done, Tony helps him lay back down and afterwards cards his fingers through Peter’s curls, scratching softly at the scalp. 

“How you feeling now, bud?” Tony asks, tucking the blanket around him. 

“Better,” He answers, eyes closed.

“Good. Rest up because you’ve got a lecture coming your way after you wake up again.”

“No,” Peter whines, “Not fair. Not m’fault.” 

He can practically hear Tony rolling his eyes.

“Oh. So you didn’t go out patrolling in the freezing rain, last night?”

He opens his mouth to argue his case before backtracking. “Sleepy,” He murmurs instead, curling up on his side. It works as Tony drops his interrogation and focuses on running his fingers through his hair instead. 

Tony’s gentle strokes lull him back to sleep.


End file.
